


Comfort Foods

by Dr_Roslin



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Battlestar Galactica - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Comfort foods, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, No Pregnancy, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, With a few detours along the way, fuck cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23230387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin
Summary: 5 posts or so from Bill Adama's perspective as they run through time and space — on comfort foods and destiny.
Relationships: William Adama/Laura Roslin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 10





	1. Comfort Foods

**Author's Note:**

> LiveJournal Import, original notes below:  
> There is no easier way to get into the heart of the culture of another world than through the food. The aromas, the tastes, the protocols around how people eat, with whom, when. They don't discuss food in Battlestar Galactica, they just eat it, but when you read through the lines, there is plenty there to imagine. 
> 
> This is a short one — 5 posts or so from Bill Adama's perspective as they run through time and space — on comfort foods and destiny.

It was a truth long been acknowledged that the _Galactica’s_ galley made the best pad Thai in the entire Fleet. Not in this Fleet, forever fleeing through unknown space from the encroaching Cylons, forever searching for this mythical planet we call ‘Earth’. Not that Fleet, _this_ Fleet, but the _Colonial_ Fleet.

The Colonial Fleet, that massive establishment served by millions of souls, the majority of whom died in their ships the day of the Fall. Died, in the service of the citizens of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and in service to the colleagues who died with them. Died, in service to the bare fifty thousand who survived. 

There aren’t very many things that make me think of the time before the Fall, but the _Galactica’s_ pad Thai is one. Back then, whenever I’d meet up with my fellow Commanders, or even with those from the Admiralty, the subject of my galley had usually come up. ‘What’s your secret, Adama?’ they’d wanted to know. ‘Share.’ It hadn’t been unusual for some of the Admirals to find some reason to shuttle to my ship, just in time for dinner.

I never told them the secret. A good galley chief was hard to find. I wasn’t giving him up. 

The _Galactica’s_ pad Thai was legendary.

Meanwhile, you’d looked at me with barely contained disdain the first time you’d seen me eat his creation. 

You’d known what I was doing. 

Diminishing you, your position, downplaying your role, you. Deliberately putting you in your place. I hadn’t bothered to stand when you’d entered, despite the fact that the President of the Twelve Colonies had come to my quarters. No, I hadn’t bothered to stand, hadn’t bothered to do up my tunic, hadn’t bothered to put out my cigarette or offer you a welcome or a meal or a drink or a smoke.

I intended to make my opinion of you and your ‘position’ perfectly clear. And I did.

It pains me to admit that I probably wouldn’t have treated Adar or any of his predecessors like that. I do like to think it was because I was used to seeing Adar as President, no matter my dislike of him, and not because you were a woman. A schoolteacher. It shames me to admit I’d dismissed you like that; makes me proud to see how you’d embraced the slur and made the label more powerful than I could ever have imagined.

I’d met Adar a few times, as I’d met those who came before him. Some were worse; some were better. I thought, still think, he was an idiot, a prick, a stuffed shirt. He couldn’t see beyond his preconceptions, his petty grudges. It’s why he sent you, the Secretary of Education, instead the Secretary of Defense, or the Secretary of State. Why he sent you instead of coming himself. At the time I was so angry; the _Galactica_ , its crew, demanded better. 

I’m grateful for that, now. It got me you.

I won’t lie; I was also mad at you. To imagine a world where you are I didn’t fight the moment we met is impossible. To think that we might not have connected, really connected, without the situations we’ve found ourselves in, makes me sad. It was understandable, but it still makes me sad. 

Still, even at the time, I felt bad that for taking my anger out at you. Still, even at the time, even with all of that, the moment I met you, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. They lingered, more than they should have. I couldn’t keep my thoughts from you. I wondered about you, more I should. More than I should have about the straight-laced Secretary of Education.

I like to think I would have found a way to know you beyond that moment, beyond that ceremony. It went beyond the fact that mysteries intrigue me. _You_ intrigued me. 

After the Fall, after we started running, it became more than that. _You_ impressed me, that night, in our first meetings and in my quarters that first time. As you stood there, ignored my attempts to denigrate you, your position, and demanded to know the truth. When I’d refused to share my meal with you, I couldn’t have imagined how many we would share together. 

When you promised to keep my secret. 

When you used it to leverage my respect. 

When you forced me to consider life at the end of the worlds.


	2. Paste

The second time I remember eating the pad Thai after the Fall, I barely gave you a thought. I barely had time to breathe, let alone sleep, jumping and jumping and jumping every 33 minutes. I’d thought the noodles and a shave would wake me after our 237th jump in a row. I barely had a bite of them before Saul ate them, which was probably best, ‘cause at that point, I couldn’t remember how to chew. 

You were just the annoying voice in my ear while I tried to keep the Fleet intact against impossible odds. I didn’t have time to babysit a schoolteacher.

Still, again, against all odds, you gained my respect when I least expected it; agreeing with me almost immediately that the return of the _Olympic Carrier _was a risk. To come back from certain death like that; after it had fallen out of the convoy; after it had been left behind?__

____

A Cylon trick. No doubt. 

____

I know you wanted badly for it to be a miracle, despite the odds. We had less than the fifty thousand we’d started with, less than we could have possibly have imagined for the end of worlds, and losing those thirteen hundred souls…

____

It hurt. It frakking hurt.

____

So you impressed me. I know it the choices we made regarding that ship haunts you, haunts Lee, as it does me. To lose our people like that, through our own failures, our own incompetence. Perhaps even by our own hand.

____

Still, it was the first time we’d come together, found a way to make our partnership work, our differences and our similarities becoming our strength. As we worked out the best of our limited options, all of which were bad, together. You were growing into your role day by day; I was coming to value your strength and your contributions day by day. We may not have been equals in the beginning, but we were rapidly becoming so, as we were rapidly becoming partners. 

____

Fast.

____

We shared dinner in my quarters often after that, though even then I wasn’t willing to share my precious stash of pad Thai with you. I was perhaps for the best, given your limited appetite. Given how little you ate whenever I saw you. Whenever anyone saw you.

____

Of course, I wouldn’t find out why until after our break and reconciliation; after Kara and Kobol and the Arrow of Apollo and the Tomb of Athena. When I saw the map come to life around me, I started to understand where you wanted to take us. When you finally came clean with me regarding the cancer, came clean about the visions and the chamalla, I started to understand you.

____

We didn’t share dinner, much, after that. Rather, I ate only if I had to, and you pushed food around on your plate when Cottle and I insisted. I lost my taste for the noodles around that time, lost my taste for food. Lost my hunger as I watched you struggle to breathe.

____

‘Chamalla does a number on the appetite,’ you said, drying to deflect my pity and gifting me with a small smile.

____

I lost my appetite as I watched as you died in front of me. Watched as you struggled to breathe even as you gained resolve. Became my support in the face of Pegasus’ return and Admiral Helena Cain. Became my support in the face of the clash between the last two remaining ships of that long-lost Fleet, in the face of Lee’s near-death and the continuing toxicity of Cain’s legacy.

____

By then, if I’d believed in the gods, I would have promised them anything for us to be able to keep you. I did it anyway. Every day I had to remind myself how selfish that was, how I should be grateful for the time we’d had you, how grateful I should be that at least you’d soon be free of the crippling pain. You were dying so fast, and you were in so much pain. 

____

Still, I had to resist the urge to beg, every day.

____

Please. Just stay a little longer.

____

Stay with me. 

____

Don’t leave me to face this without you. 

____

Please.

Don’t leave me alone to mourn.

____


	3. Variety Is the Spice of Life

It’s why I couldn’t keep my eyes off you after the Cure.

I was afraid you’d vanish if I blinked. To tell the truth, I’d come to love watching you; I was never quite sure what you’d do next, it was always such a joy. After the Cure, I couldn’t help it; I didn’t want to let you out of my sight. When you were with me, I could only try not to stare.

I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so lucky, couldn’t believe Gauis Baltar had actually come through. I knew you, knew you’d be pissed when you found out what he’d done, the cost of your cure, but I didn’t give a frak. You were still here. I couldn’t help but rejoice. You were still here. I tried to tell myself it was just because I dreaded having to attend the inauguration of _President_ Gauis Baltar, dreaded losing the close friendship, partnership we’d built, dreaded having to preside over the ceremonies of your death. But I knew I was lying to myself. By then I barely dared acknowledge that I simply rejoiced in your company.

I’d lost you, spent weeks, months watching you die. I’d lost you. Yet here you were.

I didn’t deserve it, but for some unknown, unseen reason, you were still here.

That day you spent prepping for the Presidential debate in my quarters, the day you made the mess with debate prep cards, the day when you could barely hold back your giggles as I escorted you through the length of my ship… I could live in that moment forever.

While you’d wiped the floor with Baltar during that debate, I made sure to keep my face impassive, but I wanted to celebrate. Surely I could feel proud of you as a friend, surely that wasn’t crossing the line. You shone in that moment, reminded me how you had every right to be self-assured, though you never forgot who you were working for. There are different types of swagger, and yours could barely be contained that night. Damn, you were good.

It wasn’t strictly protocol, I know, but surely a casual dinner in my quarters would barely count as favouritism, especially as we weren’t completely alone. I’d had to share your company with Lee, and I enjoyed it. The leaders of the Fleet _should_ meet, and if we didn’t include Baltar, it was only because it seemed so inconceivable that he could become President. You barely ate, but this time, I knew it was because you were so keyed up. I’d never seen you like that. You were on fire, filled with adrenaline and joy.

I’m surprised the few noodles I ate didn’t end up all over my uniform.

I could barely take my eyes off you.

You and Lee did most of the talking, and I was happy to sit and watch as you schooled my son. I think he was more impressed than I was, that night, and watching the two of discuss life made me realize again how much you had in common. It eased, somewhat, the ache in my heart, seeing the two of you go at it. You argued as much as you and I do, but you also shared so much.

It helped me let go of the unreasoning sense I’d had since the Fall of the Colonies that I was losing him, and in that moment he shone so bright as Commander of the _Pegasus_. I know that eventually you will steal my son, but watching the two of you that night made it easier to bear. It helped ease the ache, seeing the two of you connect, seeing you mentor him without conscious thought, seeing the ease in which he looked up to you and challenged you at the same time.

At the end of the night, I sent him off with the left-over noodles, your portion and mine, to enjoy in his lonely quarters on the Beast. It’s silly, I knew, but I wanted him to have something from home. I knew he was growing into his own with his own command, making his own path, re-shaping it even as he re-shaped the crew of the _Pegasus_. I also knew he missed the _Galactica_ , knew he missed Starbuck, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Knew that for him the _Pegasus_ and Dee weren’t comparable substitutes.

I like to think he would have made the _Pegasus_ his legacy, might even have made it a reason to stay in the service, flourish. If only the Fleet hadn’t made the calamitous decision to settle on that mud-ball Baltar insisted on calling New Caprica. In any case, I found, again, that I had lost my taste for my favourite meal. I’d come too much to associate it with you. Without you with me in my quarters, the pad Thai tasted sour in my mouth. The rare times I got to see you planet side, I was too distracted by your company to eat. 

Lee lost his way that year you were all planet-side, lost his focus. So did I. It took us a while to get that focus back, and we paid for that, in blood and with the loss of the _Pegasus_. I can’t blame him for her loss, and in the end he pulled all of our bacons out of the fire. I can’t be mad at him for his refusal to come back with me for you, not when he came through in the end, gave up his independence and the chance to shine outside of my orbit. Did it to save all of us.

It was _my_ lack of leadership which led to his failure. It was _my_ inability that lost year to imagine that the Cylons would find us which led to _my_ failure. I wanted so badly to believe that, since we hadn't had a choice but to settle New Caprica, it had to be fate. There had to be a future beyond the life of unending despair we’d faced since the Fall. I know you felt the same. I know that’s why we both tried to move beyond our misgivings about the Baltar's choice. That was _your_ job, giving our people hope, and even out of office, you succeeded. _My job_ was to protect them, protect you.

I failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to feed comment or to join me at @RandomBks


	4. Changing Tastes

By some miracle we got you back, got most of you back, anyway. And then you I, we shared dinners of all kinds often after the Second Exodus, after your return from New Caprica. I’d given up pretending I had to fight you, by then, our familiarity the pleasant reward for all the time and effort we’d spent, learning to depend on each other. I know you’re not an idiot, knew you knew I watched you, my gaze lingering on you on you longer than was proper, longer than was decent.

I didn’t care.

It was pleasant, seeing the warmth in your eyes when sought each other’s company. _Pleasant_. Perhaps that wasn’t the word. _Necessary_ might be a better one. You filled me up, filled me in a way I hadn’t been filled in a long time. Maybe never. I found I wasn’t willing to live without it. I found I wasn’t willing to live without you. I wasn’t sure I could.

Watching Bulldog eat the pad Thai, a dish he’d introduced to my galley, turned me off them for good. (It was probably a good thing, anyway. It’s hard to make a good pad Thai out of algae).

Since I couldn’t live without your company, I couldn’t stand to watch your affection for me die. I no longer deserved your respect, your friendship. I never really had, but I’d allowed myself, allowed you, to think that I had. When the time came to finally face what I’d done, I couldn’t meet your eyes. I focused instead on my shoes, unwilling to look even at yours, unsure at what I’d do, how long it would take me to break down and beg.

Don’t hate me. Please.

In the end, I didn’t need to beg, no matter however willing I was to do it. You humbled me, in the moment, with your refusal to acknowledge my guilt. You humbled me, when you made me publicly accept an honour I’d never deserved. I’m equally grateful for both, for you and for your ability to know instinctively what I need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to feed comment or to join me at @RandomBks


	5. Dirt

We eat rarely now, just as when we began. I can’t stand watching you sit there, pushing food around on your plate, denying the nausea and pretending to enjoy watching me eat.

You subsist on little more than water; I subsist on moonshine and you.

The only reason I need to live is to be there for you, anyway. I don’t really care, otherwise.

I want to go back in time, to see you, enjoy you, eating at my table with at least the appearance of enjoyment. I want to go forward in time, to watch you enjoy all the delicacies that Earth will afford us. You’d better be there with me for that, ‘cause right now everything tastes like dust, and the bounties of Earth deserve to taste better than that. Despite what they say about Taurons, I’ve never had a taste for dirt.

Without you, I doubt I’d have a taste for anything.

I’m begging again, but I can’t help it.

I’m being selfish, I know. I can’t stop.

Hang on a little longer.

Don’t leave me. Please. Don’t leave me to face this without you.

Don’t leave me. Please. Don’t leave me alone to mourn.

Please.

Stay with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to feed comment or to join me at @RandomBks


End file.
